


A New Hope

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: Mighty Max
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A savior is born, and destiny lies in wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Hope

**Author's Note:**

> I'd been writing small bits and pieces of various "Star Wars" stories as of late, and this kept sticking around in my head like a stubborn pimple. I doubt there are more than three people on my flist these days who even knows what "Mighty Max" is, but for those that do, um, I have no excuse. The saccharine content blindsided me; I never stood a chance. Yyyyeah. Title is shamelessly stolen from George Lucas. The couple mentioned in the story, by the way, is Max's Aunt Harriet and Uncle Alfred, who have a very small cameo in the episode "Armageddon Outta Here".

Sunshine filtered through the high-set windows, bouncing off white walls and brightening the already well-lit corridors. The hospital waiting room had mostly emptied out by now, save for a weary-looking older gentleman with an open newspaper lying against his chest as he slept stiffly in his chair.

Virgil reached for his pocket watch, noting with satisfaction that more than four hours had passed since he'd first sat down, eager for news. He'd overheard snippets of conversation between an obviously Southern woman and whom he posited as her husband. "... first pregnancy's always the worst ... Virginia said her water broke in that dusty museum ... child's not just a pile of dinosaur bones ..."

A nurse had come to collect the couple shortly thereafter, and though Virgil had been very tempted to follow them, he knew it would only cause confusion. These people did not know him, he told himself to rationalize the twinge of disappointment. But oh, how he knew them; from a distance, through portraits drawn by the Hand of Destiny, yet intimate in its own way.

It would not always be this way, of course; there would come a time when their paths would cross, when the Chosen One would be called upon to do his duty. The thought filled him with both hope and dread - hope that a great evil of the world would be banished by the Mighty One's hand; and dread because the Mighty One would still only be a boy, a child - this child - one who would unsuspectingly and all at once have a cosmic burden placed upon his shoulders.

It was wrong, Virgil thought vehemently; it was wrong to ask someone so young to shoulder such a daunting task. The first Capbearer had been thirty standard years old, all sinewy muscle and nearly single-minded in his task. And even he had failed, falling into the murky depths of the Underworld with his arch-nemesis. Virgil had watched with unwavering intensity and not a little bit of dread as that particular frame in the Chamber of Destiny had been filled: killed, the finished drawing confirmed. Destroyed brutally, by Skullmaster, enslaved now but still all too alive. And that was where the new Mighty One came in, another Mighty Max --

He was jolted out of his reverie by the soft footsteps of an approaching nurse, who hesitantly shook the shoulder of the sleeping man in the chair opposite Virgil's. "Huh, wha," the man said groggily, and blinked up at her. "W-what's wrong, 's my wife okay?" Virgil secretly wondered just how long he'd been taking up residence, keeping a vigil. He himself had lived centuries upon centuries, and still if asked, he'd have to affirm that the past four hours waiting for the Chosen One to be born had felt like an eternity unto itself.

The nurse smiled kindly at the man, seemingly not put off by his gruff manner. "Your wife's surgery went very well, Sir," she confirmed, and gestured towards an open door leading down a lengthy hallway. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to see her."

Left alone at last, the silence was at once sudden and startling. His pocket watch ticked away another painstaking five minutes and thirty-seven seconds before the fowl stood, curiosity overtaking him and trodding dutifully down the same hallway, past three intersections, until he came to one marked 'Maternity Wing'. This section of the hospital was dimmer, owing to less natural light filtering in from outside, and also out of respect for the newborn residents of the nursery, which Virgil discovered at last after rounding a corner.

There was a young man at the other end, cradling a little girl with her hair fastened into pigtails, whose nose was pressed up against the glass so that she could peer at whom Virgil assumed was a new sibling. Discreetly, he stood at the opposite corner, craning his neck to read the tags at the end of the rows of bassinets. And that was when he saw him: 'Max' the name-tag read. It was possibly a coincidence, the name not being completely uncommon in this region of course, but one glance at the infant with the first vestiges of soft blond hair, and Virgil knew this was the future Capbearer.

He watched the boy for several moments, his curiosity piqued, chiding himself lightly that simply observing wasn't hurting anybody. At one point, watery blue eyes blinked open, and the child seemed to stare right back at him. Virgil startled, nearly taking a step back out of surprise, but the boy simply waved a tiny balled fist in the air and made a face to signify what could have been interpreted as a laugh. The fowl relaxed; he allowed himself to stay for seven-and-a-half more minutes, and then, sated for the time being, made his way out in the manner that he'd come.

Norman was still sitting on the same low-slung bench Virgil had left him at outside when he returned. The roan-haired warrior stood and stretched powerful leg muscles before fixing him with a knowing smile. "Got what you came for?"

Virgil made a small tutting sound in the back of his throat, but he was unable to keep the corners of his beak from turning up just a little bit. "Indeed," he said simply, and knew that, for all of his teasing, Norman understood.


End file.
